


Five Steps Ahead

by SpicedGold



Series: The Nara Family [13]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Because we don't have any of those, Gen, Learning to be a ninja can be tough, Life lessons are also tough, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-mission patch up, So are moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: The first time Shikadai came home badly injured, it was pouring rain, punctuated by thunder and lightning, and he was fed up with his life. All he wanted was to go to bed and forget about being a ninja for a while.But life doesn't always work out the way we want it to.





	Five Steps Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been sitting on my laptop since the beginning of the year, and I figured I might as well post it. It's nothing special, but it gives us some Temari/Shikadai time which we are lacking.

The first time Shikadai came home badly injured, it was pouring rain, punctuated by thunder and lightning, and he was fed up with his life and in no mood to be civil to anyone. He was limping on one leg – the bruise on his hip had been spreading enthusiastically – and the combination of rain and blood made his clothing stick to him in weird ways.

He was thirsty, and tired, and sore, and completely over being a shinobi.

He tramped into the house irritably, shaking water from his hair, and wincing at the sudden movement that reminded him he had wrenched his neck strangely. He kicked his shoes off, and stomped further inside.

All he wanted was to flop into bed. He didn’t care if he bled on everything. He was angry – at himself, at his team, at his mission, just angry in general – and exhausted.

“Shikadai?” He could hear Temari’s voice, from somewhere in the house.

“Who else would it be?” he grumbled. He was trying to extract himself from his jacket as he walked, but twisting was difficult, and it was clinging heavy and sodden to him.

He was half way to his room before Temari caught him, looking him over with a critical eye. “Are you hurt?”

“Well, _some_ of this is Chocho’s blood,” he snapped, still stuck in his jacket. “But no shit I’m hurt.”

It was as Temari took a step towards him that he flinched, realising who he was talking to. He stayed still, eyes down, expecting a lecture on his behaviour, and language, and maybe his inability to get his team home in one piece at the same time. He pressed his lips together.

Surprisingly, Temari did not say anything about his tone of voice. She disentangled him from his jacket without a word, one hand lingering over the graze across his arm. “Go take a shower. I’ll look at you when you’re done.”

She sounded oddly tender, and Shikadai couldn’t help but look up in surprise. “Okay . . .” He edged away, but not before Temari reached out a flicked his ear. “Ow! _Mom_!”

“Clean up properly, and watch your language.” The warning tone was back.

Rubbing his ear, Shikadai retreated towards the bathroom. Was it too much to ask for some sympathy?

The hot water felt exceptionally good, and almost washed off his foul mood. It was hard for it to ease entirely, considering he was reminded of why he was in a bad mood as he gingerly washed off every accumulated injury. His hip was currently bright red, standing out as an angry welt against his skin.

The graze on his arm stung, and he tried to hold it out of the water as much as possible. It was raw and annoying, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in it that he had to get out. With a sigh, resigned to the pain, he patted at it gently with a cloth, optimistically hoping that would be enough.

Temari was waiting right outside the shower. Shikadai nearly walked into her, scrambling to wrap his towel around himself more securely. He still looked unusually incensed, clearly fuming at something. The change, from his norm of lackadaisical nonchalance, was amusing. Temari tried not to smile.

“How much blood did you lose?”

“Not enough,” he grumbled, edging past her to get to his room and retrieve some clothes. “Because it’s still coming out.”

“I should hope so.” Temari waited in the bathroom, pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet. It was not often used – Shikadai’s genin missions didn’t often result in drama, and neither she nor Shikamaru were prone to injuring themselves.

Temari was pulling the two wooden stools into the centre of the room when Shikadai re-entered, hair still lying flat, pyjama shirt over his arm, and moving awkwardly.

Temari’s sharp eyes zeroed in on his limp. “What have you done to your leg?”

“It’s just a bruise.” Shikadai grumbled, pulling the waist of his pants down just enough to prove it. “No broken skin.”

Satisfied, Temari nodded, and sat down on one of the little stools, the first aid kit already opened.

Shikadai pulled his hair out of the way, tying it atop his head as usual, before sitting down opposite her for inspection.

“Are you going in for a mission tomorrow?” she asked, wondering how urgently he needed healing, or if she could let him take his time and sleep it off naturally.

“I filed the report already,” he replied stiffly, leaning away as her fingers found the long, shallow gash across his shoulder blade that had been the cause of most of the bleeding. “And I checked on everyone before I came home. I’ll do it again tomorrow. So that’s all.”

“You can sleep in.” The cut was clean, with no sign of embedded debris. It must have been a blade, she surmised. She ran a strip of medical tape across it to keep it closed for the night. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches.

He stayed silent after that, turning periodically on his seat to present various injuries. She had one of his hands in hers, gently rubbing ointment into scuffed knuckles, when she asked, “What happened?”

That, clearly, was the issue, because Shikadai turned away, looking somewhere else pointedly. Finally, he murmured, “I messed up.”

Temari didn’t acknowledge the confession. She continued with what she was doing, moving him to inspect the edges of a scrape across his back.

“I missed a trap. I wasn’t expecting it. We got ambushed. It was my fault, because I should have seen it. I should have been aware of it.” He gritted his teeth slightly. “Dad always says I need to be at least five steps ahead. I wasn’t, and I fucked up the miss-“ He stopped with a yelp as Temari yanked his ear, and corrected, “I messed up the mission.”

“Did you die?”

Shikadai scoffed. “Obviously not. But it was a stupid mistake, and it put everyone in unnecessary danger.”

“What did Moegi say about it?” The scrape was not deep. Temari chose to leave it; bandaging would have been difficult, and she would more than likely drag him to Sakura for a once over in the morning anyway.

“She said I did a good job adapting to the situation. That I could learn from the mistake. That it turned out okay, and I kept everyone alive.”

“But you’re still angry.” There was a dark bruise on one of Shikadai’s shoulder blades. Temari avoided it, turning him around slightly to look at his arm.

“I shouldn’t have made the mistake in the first place. Dad wouldn’t’ve. He’d have seen it.”

Temari fought down a smile. Truthfully, she was pleased to see Shikadai reacting to something. He tended to drift through life. A reality check had been a long time coming, and a mission with real consequence was just the wakeup call he needed. Add in a bit of self-reflection and, well, she was counting it as a very successful mission. “So, even taken by surprise, you still managed to turn everything in your favour, win the fight, and get your team home alive?”

The graze went deep. Temari covered it in gauze and wrapped a bandage around it securely.

“They got hurt,” he added quietly. “I failed. As a leader, I’m meant to keep them safe.”

“As a leader, you’re meant to grow your judgement and use it to better protect your team in the future. You’re meant to learn from every experience. You brought everyone home. The mission was a success.”

“Chocho got hurt pretty bad.”

“But she walked home, didn’t she?”

Shikadai lowered his eyes again. “Yes.”

“Shikadai.” Temari turned him around, waiting until he met her gaze before continuing. “Everyone survived. There are going to be missions that test you. There are going to be things that don’t go according to plan. You are going to have to work for your life and for your teammates’ lives. This is one thing that you cannot quit on. Just get out there and do it.”

“I didn’t quit,” Shikadai mumbled.

“You back off when things get hard. You turn away when life gets tough. And that’s fine at home. But as a shinobi, you can’t afford to quit. You can’t back off when things get tough. You need your best, all the time. Five steps ahead, remember?”

Shikadai looked at her, the expression of annoyance still present.

“This was an important mission for you.” Temari slid her thumb across his cheek, smoothing a scratch there. Shikadai winced and pulled back. “You needed to see that the real world has consequences. Take what you’ve learned, and use it make sure you don’t get caught the same way again.”

Shikadai dropped his gaze down, face drawing into a frown. His thinking face, an exact carbon copy of his father’s. It made Temari smile, as she checked the shallow lacerations on his shin and forearm. The brooding, the moping, the whining, that was all Shikamaru. It was like having a miniature version of him in the house, more often than not. It was only when Shikadai wanted something that he looked like his mother.

The fire in his jade eyes, the steel in his will, the absolute conviction to follow something through. It was rare, but it existed, and Temari could see it forming now as Shikadai mulled over her words, and his mission. He sat in silence as she finished patching him up, grumbling occasionally when he deemed her too rough.

“Feeling better yet, cry baby?” Temari asked, finally standing up and patting his shoulder. “Or are you still in a mood?”

Shikadai shrugged his pyjama shirt on, still uncharacteristically quiet. He buttoned it slowly, expression serious. There was a level of conviction in his tone Temari hadn’t heard often. “I’ll protect them. It won’t happen again.”

_It will_, Temari thought, but she figured he didn’t need that cold reality dropped on him right now. “Good boy. I’m proud of you.” She dropped a soft kiss on his head. When he shrank away, an automatic response from a pre-teen boy, she smiled thinly.

Before he had a chance to leave, she grabbed him, expertly avoiding all tender areas, and held him close, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

“Mom, don’t,” Shikadai squirmed indignantly. “I’m not a child anymore. Stop it!”

“You’re gonna be my baby forever, so you might as well learn to deal with it.” Temari kept her hold easily. “And I’m gonna love you forever, and kiss you forever, and embarrass you in front of your friends forever.” She punctuated each ‘forever’ with a kiss to the top of his head.

“_Mom_!”

“You let yourself get caught,” Temari pointed out, hugging him tight.

“Uh, stop kissing me,” Shikadai whined. “Save it for Dad or someone, geez.” Finally, he put some distance between them, limping gingerly away.

Temari smiled fondly at him.

“I’m fixing my gear, then going to bed,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

“No good night kiss?” Temari’s smile broadened when he hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, body already leaning into the step to leave. He paused, clearly thinking. Finally, with a sigh, and muttered, “What a drag,” he turned around and came into the room again, bottom lip stuck out in a petulant pout.

He stood in front of his mother, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Temari felt a hot flush of affection, wrapping her arms around him again, holding him gently, murmuring, “I’m glad you came home safely.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Shikadai returned the hug. He even leaned in when Temari pressed her lips to his head.

Shinobi or not, leader or not, he was still a boy.

When she checked on him later, his shinobi equipment was stacked neatly, and he was sleeping soundly, exhausted by a day of too many emotions.

Shikamaru came into the bedroom with a bit more speed than usual, asking in a loud whisper, “Is Shikadai alright? I heard he got hurt on his mission?”

“He’s fine,” Temari replied, sitting up. She had drifted off to sleep awaiting Shikamaru’s return home from work. “Damaged his pride more than anything else.”

Shikamaru breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Glad he’s alright. Did he handle it okay?”

“He handled it great. He’s learnt something from it. He’s beat himself up over it. He’s motivated to do better next time.” She looked at him knowingly. “He’s more motivated than you were, at that age.”

“As long as he’s alright,” Shikamaru said, glossing over the teasing. “That’s all that matters.”

“He’s fine,” Temari confirmed. “I’ll take him to Sakura tomorrow, but he’s fine. Pissed off, but fine.”

“Well, he’s your son,” Shikamaru remarked. He finally approached the bed. Temari sat up a bit better to greet him properly. “Did he file his mission report already?”

“Yes. And he’s checked up on his teammates. And he’s checked and repaired his gear for the next mission.”

“He’s done all that already?” Shikamaru sounded surprised. “I was gonna help him with that, like I usually do . . .”

“It’s all done.”

“Huh.” Shikamaru looked slightly disappointed. He had been looking forward to sitting down with Shikadai and analysing the mission, finding the weak spots, finding solutions, making sure everything was good to go for the next one. “He doesn’t normally do it without being reminded.”

“Yes, well,” Temari reached arms up, wrapping them around Shikamaru’s neck and pulling him down for a soft kiss. “He’s five steps ahead of you.”


End file.
